GP Mirandy 2
by Astratta
Summary: More GP!Miranda smut!


**A/N: I hadn't intended for "GP!Mirandy" to be more than a smutty one-shot, but then I couldn't shake this particular idea. For the most part, parts 1 and 2 can stand on their own, but in my head, part 1 is set in Paris just after Miranda learns Stephen is divorcing her, and part 2 follows several months after that.**

 **(You can find part 1 here: s/11780773/1/GP-Mirandy-1)**

* * *

"Oh!" Miranda's eyes flew open as she instinctively pressed herself into Andrea's mouth. "Andrea, what—"

"Shh," Andy shushed her, pushing her hips back down. "Stay right there. I'm in charge today."

"The—" Miranda struggled to breathe. Andrea was drawing figure eights with her tongue and staring into her darkened blue eyes with mischievous brown ones. "The girls—"

"Just went off to school," Andy mumbled, mouth preoccupied with taking as much of Miranda in as possible.

"Work— Oh, god!"

"Can wait," Andy grinned, gently scraping Miranda with her teeth.

Miranda supposed it would have to, because Andrea's nimble fingers had just brushed her balls, and she could do nothing but let her eyes fall shut, her head fall back, and allow Andrea's loving ministrations to carry her away.

A few quick, firm, skilled strokes from one hand, gentle cupping from the other, and that divine tongue-lashing technique Andrea had all but perfected, and she was coming in large spurts onto her own stomach with a low groan, panting to try to catch her breath, which proved utterly worthless when she felt that soft, silky tongue lap—like a kitten—at the cum pooled on her belly.

She was rock hard and _aching_ again in seconds. "Andrea," she moaned.

"Mmm." Andy beamed at her, and then she dipped her lips into the little pool of milky white and leaned up to press a kiss to Miranda's mouth.

"Oh, god," Miranda whimpered, tasting herself on Andrea's lips and feeling herself twitch in response against Andrea's stomach. "Please."

But Andy just pulled back, smirking as she gathered more cum onto her fingers. She watched Miranda stare at her in rapt fascination as she smeared it onto her own pussy, dipped two fingers in—just up to the first knuckles—and gently pulled her lips apart so Miranda could see how incredibly wet she was.

" _Please, darling!_ "

Her plea went unanswered as Miranda watched her lover reach toward the base of the bed for a strange-looking dildo she'd never seen before.

"I— what? Andrea…"

Slowly, so slowly, Andy wet both ends of the purple toy with her mouth and slipped the shorter, bulbed end inside of herself, eyes fluttering in that delicious way that Miranda loved.

What she didn't love, despite the strong physical jolt it gave her, was that, when inserted into Andrea, the purpose of the toy became clear.

"Andrea… I… I don't…"

Andy hummed. "Not as good as the real thing, but it'll have to do for now." She reached for Miranda and brought real and fake together in a loose fist, thrusting gently through her fingers and stroking Miranda with the smooth, colored silicone as she did so.

The sensation was mildly pleasurable on its own, but the sheer lust in Andrea's eyes as she stared at her handiwork had Miranda _just_ on the edge of coming again when Andrea pulled away.

" _No!_ " She should have been ashamed of the incredible need in her voice, but she could hardly think at all. "Please. Oh, please, Andrea. _Please._ "

"Shh, baby," Andy soothed, rubbing circles onto Miranda's inner thighs with her thumbs.

Miranda jumped when those thumbs inched up to brush her own sopping pussy. "Oh!" she couldn't help but moan. "I— Andrea— You don't have to—"

"I do. I really do. Please let me. Please?"

"Darling…" The gentle caresses were _heavenly,_ but… "I— You— We can just use my…" She couldn't bear to say it. Even after months of Andrea's sincere reassurances, she hadn't managed to break five decades' worth of self-loathing.

"We can," Andy murmured, "We will. But I want all of you, Miranda. I _need_ you."

"Andrea, I haven't…" She licked her lips and tried again. "I mean, I've never…"

Andrea looked surprised at this, her caresses halting. "But…you had the girls…"

All of the air seemed to leave Miranda's lungs at once. "Yes. No. I meant— My husbands used my pussy. But they didn't touch my— the other…thing." She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified beyond belief even as Andrea's stroking began anew, spreading her copious fluids over her pussy and ratcheting her libido up yet another impossible notch.

"And you think I want to be anything like them? You think I only want a single part of you?" Andy scoffed. "God, Miranda, you think I want to ignore the fact that you're literally _dripping_ for me?"

"I— I—"

"Let me. Please. Let me have all of you. Let me make love to you."

More protests formed on Miranda's tongue, however weak they were. But they never made it past her lips, because Andrea shifted again, and now Miranda could feel the smooth silicone resting against her pussy.

"Oh, baby," Andy cooed, "You're so ready for me. Won't you let me take you here? Please?" Brown eyes glinted as Andrea rocked up and down, slipping the toy in—just a little. "Pretty, pretty please?" And then the clincher: she extended a single digit, ran her blunt nail from Miranda's balls to her tip, and then flicked, with just the right amount of pressure.

"Fuck!" Miranda yelled, uncharacteristically loud even to her own ears, and she, as Andy had obviously predicted, jerked involuntarily, inadvertently impaling herself onto Andrea, which only earned a second, incoherent scream from her.

Then there was no stopping them.

She met Andrea's thrusts, quick and rhythmic, with her own, wallowing in the pleasure of having her pussy filled, emptied, filled, emptied, again and again and again.

"You're so tight," Andy groaned, "You feel _so_ good."

Miranda could only moan. The obscene squelching sound coming from their movements, the mere thought of having Andrea inside of her, the fact that Andrea had taken a firm hold of that other part of her and was milking it for all she was worth…

She felt her orgasm building from both places, what felt like an immense, intimidating thing that would eat her alive from the inside out—and she couldn't even stop to be afraid of it. She was too breathless and dizzy and lost, and, all of a sudden, she was _coming._ "Oh! Yes! _God, yes! Yes!"_

There wasn't space to breathe or think or worry. Andrea didn't stop, didn't slow, didn't soften, and Miranda couldn't stop coming until her balls were empty, and the last few times were _dry_ and _painful_ , but _so, so good_ , and she could only vaguely process Andrea coming with her, over and over, until the edges of her vision went fuzzy, and she heard Andrea's voice as if from a distance, saying she loved her, all of her.


End file.
